The Written Void
by SherlockianGirl
Summary: Literature comes to life as the Doctor and Rose find themselves in a dimension where the authors and their written characters come ever closer to the danger of interaction.
1. From the Library

The Doctor looked up from his book, peering over the top of his black glasses at the girl across from him.

"Ever fancied yourself a reader, Rose?"

Rose Tyler had dozed off on the sofa, but slowly opened her eyes at the question. "I've had my lot of reading for school, if that's what you mean."

The Doctor leapt from his chair and bounded across the library of the TARDIS. He skidded to a stop behind the couch, leaning over the back of it in his excitement.

"Did you enjoy the books, then?" he chirped.

Rose groaned, irritated at her nap being interrupted once more. "Not particularly. Can't think of any I really liked."

"Not even Dickens?"

"Definitely not Dickens," was the mumbled reply. Her eyes were closing again, drifting off into peaceful-

"You _traitor_!" The Doctor cried, his eyes wide with mock horror. "We met the fellow, you remember! He was a genius! Not to mention one of the greatest writers this nation has ever seen!"

"Not to mention long-winded." Rose shifted on the cushions and buried her face in her pillow.

The Doctor leaned further over the back of the sofa, stopping just above her ear. "What about other authors, hmm? Do you like any of them?"

With a swift motion, Rose reached up and seized his tie near the collar, causing a squeak of surprise to escape the Doctor's lips. She dragged him down until their noses were almost touching.

"What about letting me sleep, hmm?" she retorted, though the effort was enough to completely wake her from her tired stupor.

The Doctor pulled back and flashed her a grin. "Aw, you don't mean that! You're intrigued and sleep would just be a waste of time now!"

Rose's sour mood melted at the sight of his smile. And he was right. A spark of curiosity had reluctantly been kindled. "Alright, you got me. What are you up to now?"

The Doctor leaned down to whisper in her ear. _"Wouldn't you like to know?"_ Then just as suddenly he sprang back with a laugh and sprinted for the TARDIS control room.

"Oh no you don't!" She shouted after him, jumping up from the couch and sprinting out of the room.

She found the Doctor scurrying about the main chamber, flipping switches and yanking levers as he circled the central controls of the TARDIS. "Rose Tyler, I believe a trip is in order!"

Rose grinned at the prospect of another adventure with the tireless Doctor, despite her earlier sleepiness. Any step outside the TARDIS was well worth the loss of sleep, the want of food, anything. The little necessities of life could hardly compare to exploring the far reaches of time and space.

Rose joined him at the controls, following him as he continued to scramble about the machinery. "And where are we going?" she asked, her eyes now bright with anticipation.

The Doctor punched one final button and the TARDIS lurched violently into motion, sending Rose crashing into the Doctor and knocking them both to the floor.

"You know, warnings could be very useful sometimes," Rose laughed from where she lay sprawled out at the Doctor's feet. "Perhaps saying 'This is the last button I'm going to push before we're sent airborne in the TARDIS'."

"But then it wouldn't be as exciting," the Doctor protested from the flat of his back.

"Then what about TARDIS airbags?" Rose teased.

"Of course!" The Doctor sat up with a thoughtful look, crossing his legs and resting his chin in his hands. "We could install them right after the seatbelts."

"We might get pulled over if our vehicle doesn't meet intergalactic safety standards, you know."

The Doctor sniffed, closing his eyes dramatically as if preparing to impart some great truth. "The Time Lords _write_ the rules of the road. We are not required to be safety-conscious."

As if to protest this declaration, the TARDIS suddenly shifted in its course with a brutal spin, sending its passengers slamming against its walls. The innards of the ship groaned, escalating into a deafening roar as the lights illuminating the control room flickered and dimmed.

"Did you _have_ to say that?" Rose shouted above the din, clinging to a railing as the ship continued to rock violently about them.

The Doctor had struggled to his feet but fell again after another brutal lurch from the TARDIS robbed his balance.

"Only a minor glitch!" he cried, but his voice betrayed a trace of panic. He braced himself against the floor as the TARDIS continued to reel beneath him, but managed a staggering crawl to the main console. Pulling himself up against it, he began a frantic series of adjustments, his fingers flying over the various switches and buttons with deft expertise.

A moment passed and a triumphant shout from the Doctor rose above the deafening bellows of the TARDIS. The roar in the chamber immediately diminished as the machine gave one final shudder and was still.

"Yep, we can still survive without the airbags," the Doctor muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

Rose had recovered herself and was crossing the room with unsteady steps. "Would this be our destination, captain?"

The Doctor immediately brightened. "Not sure. We'll just have to take a look, eh?" He strode across the chamber to the entrance of the TARDIS and cracked open the door. A gust of wind instantly rushed through the opening and swirled about the room, hissing through pipes and grates along the way.

Though she deemed it a passing fancy, Rose noticed a shadow of uncertainty pass over the Doctor's features, his brow furrowing slightly with what seemed to be confusion. But the moment quickly passed, and the Doctor beckoned his companion with a smile.

"Come along, Rose. Your classroom awaits."

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**This is my first foray into the DW fandom, so please let me know what you think! Any reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	2. The Two Men

_**Thanks to all who have read and reviewed! Hope you guys are having as much fun as I am!**_

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**_"Cobblestones! Oh, I _love _these!" The Doctor exclaimed, scuffing his converse over the stone road with obvious delight. He breathed in the night air, his eyes widening in the dim streetlight. "And gas lamps, how picturesque! A bit foggy, you know, but it wouldn't be Victorian London without—"

A shrieking neigh split the air. Rose suddenly felt a hand grip her arm and wrench her backward as a horse-drawn cab burst through the night fog. It rattled past, racing madly down the alley before disappearing into the thick darkness.

"You alright, Rose?" The Doctor held her at arms length, looking her up and down. "There! That's not so bad." She smiled and nodded as he pulled her into an embrace.

Rose breathed a sigh against his shoulder. "Almost run over by a horse. That's definitely a new one."

The Doctor stepped back with a grin and made a sweeping gesture of the scene before them. "Welcome to London, 1888. A bustling city of dark mysteries and deadly forms of transportation."

"It's a pity they don't warn us about this in books," Rose added.

The Doctor's face lit up. "Ah, yes, _books_! That, Rose Tyler, is why we're here. This is the time of the great literary minds of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Oscar Wilde, and the era of our most prolific poets! Oh, such poets!"

A wry smile crept across Rose's face. "I never knew you liked poetry, Doctor."

The Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets with a ponderous air. "_But Lancelot mused a little space, he said, 'She has a lovely face, God in his mercy lend her grace, the Lady of Shalott.'_" He looked pleased with himself, adding, "A rather famous poem by-"

"Hold on, I've got this one!" Rose interrupted, gesturing for him to stop. "Oh, I know I've read it, just who wrote…Ten…Tennyson! Alfred, Lord Tennyson!"

The Doctor beamed. "Aye, paying attention in class, are we? Would you like to meet him then?"

"You're kidding! He's here in London?"

The Doctor turned to fix his gaze on the wandering traffic before them. "Well, yes, but we won't likely find him on the streets. He is, after all, about eighty years old by now."

Rose's smile faded. "Oh…then…how much time has he got left?"

"About four years. A good long life, I'd say. You know, Queen Victoria was rather fond of his writing."

Rose looked up sharply. "Queen Victoria! Oh, that time we were in Scotland! She banished us, remember?"

The Doctor's grin widened. "Yes, I remember."

Rose shoved him playfully. "Oh no, _sir, _you are not going to get us arrested. I would not be in the slightest amused."

"Aw, but I hear she has dungeons for those great enemies of the Crown. Just think! We could explore a deep, dark prison cell…"

"Doctor!"

"…or meet Alfred Tennyson."

Rose folded her arms. "Can you imagine if Queen Victoria saw us again? Oh, that woman could be positively terrifying! Don't you remember how she accused us of being on a wayward path, like we were some sort of enemy?"

The Doctor laughed. "We could pop by her palace to let her know we've come back for a spot of tea. Then we all could have a nice, long chat about the ethics of time travel and-"

"_No queens_," Rose said firmly.

The Doctor winked. "Quite right."

For the first time that night, Rose began to notice her new surroundings. It must be summer, she thought, as the night air was warm, almost humid, as it threaded its way through the swirls of fog that hung over London. The bustle on the street had died down as the hour grew late, with only the occasional horse and carriage clattering by.

"A bit creepy, if you ask me," Rose muttered, shivering slightly.

The Doctor leaned toward her. "Oh, I had completely forgot. Funny thing, we might meet someone else on our way to Tennyson's humble abode."

"Who's that, then?"

The Doctor's eyes widened as his voice dropped to a whisper. "_Jack the Ripper_."

Rose stared at him. "You did that on purpose."

"Did what?"

"Waited until night for us to arrive so you could spook me!"

The Doctor feigned an innocent look. "Mm, better stay close then. Never know what beasties lurk in the dark."

Rose took his arm with an apprehensive glance over her shoulder. "Well, I suppose it's better than Cybermen at any rate."

"Ooh, that's a scary thought!" The Doctor mused. "A Cyber Jack the Ripper!"

"Oh, stop it!"

"I wonder what the Victorian equivalent of "delete" is."

Rose punched his shoulder as he led her back to the cobblestone road. They now strolled the nearly deserted street, the light of the gas lamps casting an eerie glow through the thick smog and bathing the alley in a sickish yellow light. The murmuring voices of the occasional pedestrian could be heard as they shuffled past the two time travelers.

"See, Rose? No worries! There are people about on this fine ni-"

A door slammed, then another, and the voices of the Londoners ceased. They were gone, the townspeople shutting themselves away in the dingy houses that lined the lane, without so much as a candle to light their windows.

"Well. Now _that _is spooky," the Doctor conceded, his eyes perusing the lifeless, deserted alley before them. A chilled wind, the same damp gust that had rushed through the TARDIS, swept past them before the air finally stilled.

"I tell you, Watson, this is no coincidence!" a voice suddenly declared from the mists behind them. The Doctor silently motioned for Rose to follow him, and the couple pressed themselves against the brick walls that lined the opposite side of the street. Two men suddenly appeared before them, their pace quick as they hurried down the road.

"Holmes, I don't see how a bit of foul weather could possibly-"

"Tut, my good man, the weather is only a circumstantial element of the thing. Though, I daresay the bunglers at Scotland Yard would accept that theory without hesitation. However, I must ask that we not discuss the matter further until we reach our rooms at Baker Street."

Rose heard the Doctor's sharp intake of breath, and turned to see his brown eyes wide with alarm. "That's not…that's not supposed to happen," he whispered hoarsely.

"Doctor, who was…?"

"That was Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson."

"But-"

The Doctor spun to face his companion, pointing wildly in the direction of the retreating figures. "Rose, those men don't exist! They _shouldn't exist_! They are the figments of one man's imagination, just one man in this entire universe! But now here they are, walking the streets of London!"

Rose watched him pace back and forth and suddenly remembered their particularly violent trip in the TARDIS. Could this event have a connection? It seemed a bit more than the "minor glitch" her companion claimed it was…

The Doctor marched out to the middle of the road, clenching his hair in bewilderment. "How can they actually _be alive?"_


	3. Fiction in Reality

He was running, his long coat flapping behind him as he lengthened his stride. His white shoes pounded the slick cobblestones as he weaved in and out of the lampposts. Yard by yard he was closing in, so close to catching them-

His shoe suddenly caught the slippery edge of a stone and he stumbled forward, his side crashing into a lamppost with violent force. The Doctor's cry of pain resonated through the empty avenue as he sank to the ground, his breath coming in short gasps.

"Doctor!" Rose had caught up at last, and now fell to her knees beside him. "Oh my God, what happened?"

"I don't…I don't think I love cobblestones anymore."

"What hap-"

He waved away the question. "Don't ask."

Rose took his hand and attempted to pull him up. The Doctor hissed in pain. "Something's broken, Rose."

"What! Your arm?"

The Doctor groaned then gulped out, "Rib. Just a momentary thing. It'll heal."

"That'll take months!"

The Doctor suddenly grinned despite himself. "Oh, you humans. I'll be good as new in a few minutes."

"Oh, really." Rose cocked her head and smiled. "Well, aren't you special."

"I like to think so."

The pair froze as the sound of hurried footsteps suddenly became audible. A cane struck out of the dark fog and into the dim pool of light beneath the lamppost, followed by a thin figure dressed in black Victorian attire and top hat. A moment later a similarly dressed man revealed himself, moustached, a look of concern upon his face.

"Are you alright, sir?" began the second man, kneeling down next to the fallen Doctor.

The Doctor's eyes widened and he quickly struggled to his feet. "I'll be fine, just-_oh!_" he gasped, gripping his left side as the pain caught up with his sudden movement.

"Please, allow me to help," the man ventured again. "I'm a doctor."

An amused expression crossed the Doctor's face. "That's brilliant, ah, Doctor…?"

"Watson."

"Well, Dr. Watson, unless you can glue this rib back together with those nifty Victorian medical instruments of yours, I'm afraid I'll have to tough this one out."

Dr. Watson's brow furrowed. "Your rib? What would cause such an injury on the street?"

The Doctor cocked his head to the side and rolled his eyes upward. "Oh, you know…slammed into a lamppost at high velocity. Just popped out in front of me! Blasted fog."

Rose stifled a laugh. "It's a miracle he can even walk about on a daily basis."

The Doctor smirked, nodding his head in her direction. "Thinks she's funny, but I'm so not amused."

Rose looked up sharply, recognizing their old joke. The Doctor grinned and they both burst into laughter.

"Heavens, man! Are you injured or not?" The Victorian doctor was clearly frustrated by this bewildering change of events.

"Ow! Oh, that smarts!" The Doctor clutched his side again. "Ooh, shouldn't have laughed at that."

The first man had said nothing, but had watched the events before him with sharp, hawk-like eyes, taking in every detail about the newcomers before him. "We are not too far from Baker Street, Watson," he said quietly. "I suggest we take him there first."

"I would be very glad of your help, Doctor," the Doctor added, obviously tickled by the similarities in names.

Watson nodded, but cast a wary eye over the couple. "And how will your friend fare?"

"She will accompany me. If you'll lead the way, we'll be right behind you."

Watson turned and joined his friend. "Such strange people, are they not, Holmes?" he muttered as they began to walk ahead into the night.

"Ah! That's better!" The Doctor suddenly piped up, rubbing his left side.

Rose looked up at him. "What? You're all healed now?"

"Yep, but I believe we'll need those guys for a little more than hospitality. I want some answers," he replied, gesturing to the men in front of them. He suddenly grinned. "Who'd a thought we'd actually visit their rooms in Baker Street!"

"They exist then?"

"Unless we've been chatting with a couple of holograms. Ooh, that's a thought. Literary holograms. Fantastic, isn't it?"

Rose shot him a questioning glance. "Of course! But can we get out of here, this impossible world we've landed in?"

The Doctor's face fell, as if remembering some unspoken doubt. He bit his lip. "Something's not right, Rose, and for the love of me I can't figure it out."

Rose took his arm and leaned against him as they continued to walk. "With all these fictional men running about, do you think we're living in some sort of book?"

The Doctor chuckled. "Nah, it's impossible! There's no such dimension in time that could-"

He froze, his eyes widening. Rose released his arm as the Doctor began furiously pacing before her, hissing words and running his hands through his hair.

"There is no such dimension that exists entirely in fiction," he was muttering. "Anywhere the TARDIS lands has a basis in reality, some fiber of substance in time." He ruffled his hair again. "Then by that fact alone, that means-" He looked up suddenly and stared at his companion. "Rose, we're not in a book. No, no, those people-" he stabbed a finger in the direction of Watson and Holmes-"Those _characters_ are alive on your Earth! Alive at the very same time as their authors!"

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_**Wow, so many story alerts on this story; I'm flattered! But such little feedback! I would love to know what you guys think of this story, so any reviews would really make my day! It really encourages me to write more! :)**_


	4. The Doctor and the Detective

As they walked side by side, it seemed to Rose that the Doctor's anxiety was slowly dissipating. He strolled with his head bent, his eyes staring fixedly at nothing, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets as his coat swayed about him with each step. She then noticed a slight smile tug at his mouth and slowly widen. He suddenly turned upon her, positively beaming.

"This is _fantastic!_" he burst out, his excitement growing with each word. "We'll be sitting with legends, who before now were words on a page! Just little blots of ink in a book, now living human beings!"

His enthusiasm was contagious. Rose mentally pushed away the Doctor's previous concerns about their situation, as he himself seemed to have done so as well. After all, what was the harm in a bit of adventure? The chance would never come again, she was sure of it, and the utter impossibility of it all fascinated her.

"…and we can have a long talk about crime and detective things," the Doctor was prattling on. "We can talk all night, I've certainly got the gob for it. Do you think he'd be up for a bit of chat?"

"I don't th-"

"Ooh! What about a murder case? We could accompany him! Oh, to watch the master at work!" The Doctor cocked his head to the side. "Ah, but I'll probably correct him. Probably couldn't stop doing it. Do you suppose that would be rude, correcting the great Sherlock Holmes?"

"You can't just jump into-"

"But what if he's wrong? I can help him a teensy bit, couldn't I?" His tone seemed almost pleading, as if seeking her approval.

Rose smiled. "Wouldn't it tear a gaping whole in the fabric of time and space?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Nah, to the universe they don't exist. We can't possibly do any damage. So what do you think?" He pouted his lip, fixing her with a pair of pathetic brown eyes. "Can we stay with our imaginary friends?"

"Alright, you whiny thing," Rose laughed. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to run around this place a bit. We do seem to do an awful lot of running, come to think of it."

"You bet," The Doctor grinned, winking back at her. Then his eyes suddenly widened, and he smacked his forehead. "Oh Rose, your _clothes_!"

"What about--oh!"

The Doctor chuckled. "We have just landed in the most proper and virtue-obsessed culture, and you're wearing jeans and a t-shirt. You _scandalous_ thing."

Rose looked down at her outfit, embarrassed. "So I'm the naked girl _again_?"

The Doctor slipped off his long overcoat and placed it around his companion's shoulders. "Not quite." He smiled. "Button up. Wouldn't want the landlady to have a shock. Though it's interesting the gentlemen said nothing…"

He trailed off as they found themselves stopped outside a plain-looking flat a few steps from the street. In the dim light of a nearby lamp, they could just barely make out the "221B" etched in shadow near the entrance.

The tall, thin figure that they could only assume to be that of the austere Sherlock Holmes beckoned them to follow him. After having entered the apartments, the company was immediately greeted by an elderly lady, who upon noticing the newcomers shot them a quizzical look.

"Ah, Mrs. Hudson!" the voice of Sherlock Holmes boomed, the hint of a smile on his face. "How kind of you to stay the late hours for us. We may require some tea in the sitting room for our guests." He cast a swift glance in the direction of Rose. "It seems that this poor girl has naught to wear. Have you any accommodations that would suit her?"

The landlady turned a critical eye upon the girl in question. Rose sunk deeper into the Doctor's coat, her eyes downcast and her face now furiously flushed. The Doctor squeezed his arm tighter around hers, and she looked up to see him smiling reassuringly back at her. Then he let go and nudged her toward Mrs. Hudson, who, with a stern look led the way to her rooms at the other end of the flat.

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"Do take a seat," Sherlock Holmes muttered, the stem of his pipe clenched firmly between his teeth. He reached for the Persian slipper and filled his pipe from its contents of fragrant tobacco. He turned to find the Doctor frozen in the doorway of the sitting room, his eyes bugging.

Holmes's brow furrowed. "If you would care to-"

"Blimey, this is unbelievable!" The Doctor exclaimed, his wide-eyed gaze taking in every detail of the room. "Oh, there it is, that "VR" you shot in the wall with a revolver!" He ran across the room and stared at the holes in the wall with immense interest, running his fingers over the punctures. "And where's that violin, eh?"

Reaching into his coat, he whipped his glasses out and put them on, then strode toward the seats adjacent to the fireplace. He knelt down by the chair on his right, staring at the instrument resting on its cushion. "Incredible. You have the Stradivarius too!"

Watson shot a swift glance in the direction of Holmes, then spoke up. "Excuse me, Mr…"

Their visitor turned on his heel, looking over his glasses at the two men. "I'm the Doctor. And it is _such _a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Watson."

"Yes, but your name is-?"

"Just _the _Doctor."

Watson blinked. "But Doctor, are you not injured? You were severely in want of aid when we found you in the street!"

"_Well_, it was just this little…broken rib…thing…all better now!" He bounded to the other end of the room, his smile widening. "Aw, would you look at that. It's your chemistry sets, Mr. Holmes! What's today's experiment? Ah, magnesium! Wonderful stuff to set on fire! Makes a huge white flame. Would you like to try it?"

"No." The cold, firm voice of Sherlock Holmes came from behind his shoulder. The Doctor spun around to find the man staring keenly back at him.

Holmes's face betrayed a hint of a smile. "Tell me, Doctor, if you do not require the services of a medical man, then what dire purpose has brought you here tonight?"

The Doctor grinned widely. "Can you not deduct it, Mr. Holmes?" Sidestepping the detective, he plopped onto the couch and watched the two men gradually take their seats by the fireplace.

"As you wish. You are not from this vicinity, nor London, that much is clear," Sherlock Holmes began, a wreath of smoke from his pipe encircling his sitting chair. He narrowed his eyes, looking over his visitor with keen interest. "You look younger than middle-aged, but your eyes…" he paused, the slightest air of confusion flitting across his face. He sniffed suddenly. "Your eyes render your age impossible," he finished clinically.

"Quite true too," the Doctor replied, cocking his head to the side. "What else, then?"

"You claim the title of doctor, though it is certainly not your occupation."

The Doctor grinned. "Do tell, old chap."

The detective leaned forward. "If you were a man of medicine, you would have known not to move about so much after such an injury. Furthermore, you have no implements of the profession, which is curious given your walking the streets at such an hour. For what good purpose, sir, but to call upon patients would a doctor be out so late in the evening? I can only conclude that you have no medical practice in the profession whatsoever."

"You are magnificent at your work, Mr. Holmes."

"I might say also, Doctor," the detective continued, though the Doctor caught a slight smile as it flitted across his face, "that you did not arrive in London by any means of accustomed transportation. It seems that you have simply 'fallen from the sky', as some superstitious ones would say. You are a wanderer of sorts, lonely, and without an established home. You rely chiefly on your intelligence and ingenuity in your travels, and if I am not mistaken, you have also been reading today, voraciously in fact, from a favored source. Finally, your journey here, however it may have occurred, has the element of the unexpected. Something went awry, which even your reasoning at the moment cannot fathom."

The Doctor's mouth dropped open. "Now that…_that _is cheating."

Sherlock Holmes raised an eyebrow. "There is no deception, Doctor, only facts. You wished me to deduct and I did so."

"Ah, well that's brilliant! But I know a lot about you as well, Mr. Holmes." A mischievous smile began to spread across the Doctor's lips.

Holmes favored him with a pitying look. "Do tell, Doctor. I hope it is not mere gossip you wish to impart."

The Doctor's smile grew. "Of course not. Now, I happen to know, or _deduce _rather_, _that you, Mr. Holmes, are most trying flat mate. You keep all hours, sometimes not appearing for days and leaving without so much as notice to the doctor. Your cocaine bottle is your stimulant when there are no cases to be found, though the good Dr. Watson highly disapproves of the habit. You conduct various tedious experiments, while away troubled evenings on your violin, and are prone to smoking large amounts of shag tobacco when intense thought is required. You look down upon the officers of Scotland Yard but have come to rely more than once on Inspectors Gregson and Lestrade. Watson here was injured in Afghanistan, keeps his trusty army revolver in a drawer, and is chief chronicler of your cases and exploits as London's greatest detective." The Doctor let out a deep sigh. "Whew! I could go on, but frankly I'd have to catch my breath first."

Holmes was staring at the Doctor, his mouth twitching slightly. "Watson, you have published many of those cases, correct?"

The other doctor nodded, his eyes wide. "Yes, but Holmes, much of what he said I have yet to make known to the public!"

"As I thought." Holmes nodded in the direction of the Doctor. "It seems I have underestimated you, though I might ask how you came by such detailed conclusions."

"Trade secret," the Doctor replied with a wink.

"He must be from a far city, indeed," Dr. Watson noted to his friend. "His speech and demeanor are rather unusual. Why, even his clothes are quite strange, not to mention those of his lady companion."

The detective's eyebrows shot up. "Ah yes, your lady friend, Doctor. Is she your wife?"

The Doctor startled, his self-satisfied smile disappearing instantly. "W-wife?" he choked out. "What, you…you mean Rose?"

"If that is her name, yes."

"You're mistaken," the Doctor countered quickly, running a hand through his hair. "She's just my companion."

"Then she is a woman you acquired from the street."

The Doctor laughed. "Well, yes, I guess you could say that. Right before she ran into the TAR-" He stopped short, his eyes widening. "What, you mean a… no! _No! _ She is not _that_, sir!"

Holmes remained calm, taking another draw on his pipe, his gray eyes watching as the Doctor flew from his seat to stand before him.

"The _nerve_ to pass judgment on her!" The Doctor fumed, bending down to come face to face with the detective. His voice lowered to a dangerous tone. "You think her some harlot. _Why_?"

Watson had made a move to pull the visitor back, which Holmes silently dismissed with a wave of a hand. The detective's gaze remained locked with the man before him.

"What we assume is no sin, Doctor," Holmes said quietly. "This is an errant society we live in, anyone may tell you. Therefore, it is no strange thing in this city to see men with such lady companions-"

"_Not Rose," _the Doctor snarled back, gritting his teeth. "When I say she is my companion, I mean it as that, my _companion_. Rose is my closest ally and dearest friend, and I will not allow you to assume such demeaning things about her."

Holmes was refilling his pipe and calmly struck a match to light it. "Such a violent reaction, Doctor. You must indeed be quite unfamiliar with this time period," he muttered.

"I've been here before and know just-" the Doctor suddenly stopped and took a cautious step backward. "Wait a minute. What did you say?"

Sherlock Holmes glanced up at the Doctor and set aside his pipe. "You must know, Doctor, that I am not a man who believes in the mystic or the supernatural, for in all things there is a solid, commonplace solution. You, however, are something different entirely, a fact which I cannot ignore. It was not my intention to insult your friend, for it merely served as the final test of your identity. It is clear to me that you are not from this city, Doctor, for the simple fact that you not even from this _time._"

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**_Words cannot describe how much fun I am having with this story. Hope you guys are enjoying it as much as I am! Many thanks for reading and all your reviews, they keep me going strong! :)_**


	5. Nightmare

The landlady had left the room, leaving Rose seated uncomfortably in the spare bedroom. Her eyes perused the small room, tastefully but simply decorated. A musty scent met her nose, the aroma like that of an old book being opened, and she breathed it in deeply. The comforting smell reminded her of a library, almost like the one in the TARDIS, where she had been sleeping…

"It has been agreed that you are to retire for the night here, Miss Tyler," Mrs. Hudson suddenly announced from the doorway.

Rose broke from her reverie and stared at the landlady. "Oh, but my friend and I should be getting back t-"

"Mr. Holmes expressed a wish to have you and your gentleman friend stay as guests."

"The Doctor won't accep—oh never mind." Rose sighed. Of course the Doctor would accept the invitation. His passion for the bizarre and thrilling would always leave everything behind in the dust. _Seems he forgot to tell me what the heck's going on here. Again._

Mrs. Hudson reached into the boudoir and pulled out a long, flowing nightgown. "I trust this will be comfortable for you." She handed it to Rose, then turned and left the room once more.

With another sigh, Rose changed into it, leaving her clothes in a pile by the foot of the bed.

"Now then," she muttered to herself, "To find out what he's up to." She strode toward the door, but bumped into Mrs. Hudson just outside the threshold.

"Was there something else you required? Perhaps some hot water and a towel?" she offered civilly.

"Uh, no, I was just going to see my friend and as-"

"Oh dear, you mustn't do that! You aren't properly dressed!"

Rose bit her lip and looked down at her gown. "It seems I'm never properly dressed, am I?"

For the first time that night the landlady smiled. "I'm afraid not, dear. Now you must get some rest. The hour is very late."

Rose reluctantly obeyed. She crawled into bed, blew out the lamp and snuggled deep within the covers. _I'm missing something. Everything. _She rolled over, trying to push away the questions racing through her . Tomorrow he would give her answers.

*****

Inside the TARDIS it was deafening. She had been running about the controls, desperate to stop the inward roaring, pulling every lever she could reach to no avail. The walls continued to dissipate, revealing thundering red clouds above her.

_"Rose."_

The word was ripped away by the sudden gusts of wind that tore through the transparent walls and knocked her back against the TARDIS console. She reached out to grasp a lever but saw nothing. No hand, no arm, nothing. Pain suddenly struck as millions of tiny pricks stabbed her skin. The stinging increased, the agony tearing through her body in racing currents of electricity. She looked down and watched her body melt into air.

And he wasn't here. He couldn't stop this.

"ROSE!"

She sat up with a cry, her fists clenching the bed sheets. Gasping, she found herself once more in the old guest room, staring into the darkness.

A hand touched her shoulder. "It was just dream. It's-_ooof_!"

Rose tackled the Doctor in a hug, wrapping her arms tightly about him and burying her face in his jacket.

"That bad, huh?" The Doctor chuckled, gently returning the embrace. "Wasn't I there to fight off the beasties? Oh! Did I have a sword? I do love a good sword."

Rose pulled back, a puzzled expression clouding her face. "N-no. You weren't there at all_._"

"Really?" He seemed disappointed, but then smiled slightly. "Probably off tinkering in the TARDIS then, eh?"

Rose ran a hand through her tangled hair. "Yeah, something like that."

The Doctor drew himself up to sit cross-legged on the bed. "_Weeelll, _we've got worse problems.

It seems we've been found out."

"What do you mean?"

"The great Sherlock Holmes has deduced our time-traveling ways and is now holding us hostage."

Rose couldn't help but smile. "Hostage? Don't you mean enjoying an extended stay with your literary hero?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Nah. More like being watched like a bug in a jar and getting poked at with little sticks and being fed leaves and such. And dying because he forgot to put air holes in the lid."

Rose burst out laughing and the walls echoed with the sound as it reverberated across the empty room.

The Doctor clamped a hand over her mouth. "Not so _loud_!" he hissed, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the door. "Can you imagine what they'd do if they found me in here? Rose! What is so _funny_?"

Rose giggled harder behind his hand, and then pushed him away. "Oh, you poor thing! What's it like to find someone exactly like you?"

"We're nothing alike," the Doctor pouted, folding his arms across his chest.

His companion grinned. "Oh, but I think so. I know a few things about the Great Detective, you know. Let's see. He loves a good bit of mystery, not to mention he's eccentric and devilishly clever. You two would make a good team."

The Doctor shook his head. "More's the danger with every new thing he discovers. Rose, this world isn't right and we don't know how to fix it. Anything we do could cause it to collapse on itself and us with it."

"It's a bit of mystery, hmm?" Rose pointed out, cocking her head to the side. "So wouldn't we need a detective then?"

"What? You're not concerned about the black holes and the end of the universe, only that we play along?"

"It'll be fun and you know it."

A weight seemed to be lifted from the Doctor's shoulders and he suddenly grinned, bouncing off the bed to his feet. "I can't argue with that, Rose Tyler! But between you and me, I'm smarter than him."

Rose nodded solemnly. "Of course. But on the other hand, you'd make an adorable bug."

The Doctor stared at her. "_What_?"

"You know, you being a bug in a jar and all that." She reached up and ruffled his hair. "Would you have this too? And your glasses? Oh, you'd be _precious._"

"Alright, stop it."

Rose pushed the covers back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Don't we need to get back to the TARDIS soon? You know, to get supplies and stuff?" She circled the bed and knelt down beside her discarded pile of clothes. She began rummaging through the pockets, muttering,

"I think my TARDIS key is in here somewh-"

Her piercing scream filled the room, ringing in the Doctor's ears. Rose flung away the object in her hand and moaned as she doubled over, her breath coming in short gasps.

"Rose!" The Doctor fell to his knees and grabbed her hand. Taking a box from his jacket pocket, he struck a match in the darkness. On her palm was etched the faint outline of a key, seared into the skin as if branded by fire. He blew out the match and the room returned to darkness. Then his eyes caught the faint red glow of something on the floor.


	6. Red

_**Thank you to all you who have read and reviewed--my FFN has been down so I could not thank you for your reviews. You guys are great and I'm so excited that you enjoy this little tale. Also, a special thank you to Baroness Orc for all her wonderful encouragement with this story. :)  
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The Doctor had managed to find the bedside lamp and light it, then crawled back to the foot of the bed and placed it on the floor beside Rose.

"Watson!" A voice suddenly boomed from across the apartment.

The Doctor shifted on his knees to stare at the door. His wide eyes shot frantically between Rose and the metallic object that still glowed an eerie red on the floorboards. With a swift movement, he kicked it under the bed and turned back to his companion, moving the lamp closer to her.

"How bad is it?"

Rose let out a shuddering breath.

The panic in the Doctor's voice was evident. "Is there water in here? Like those basin things for washing up? Blasted Victorians, we could use a good sink and running water just now! Anything! Just something to wet a cloth or-"

Footsteps pounded on the stairs at the other end of the flat.

"I don't want _him_ in here," the Doctor muttered. "He'll ask too many questions. He'll have to know exactly what-"

"I'm sure they could help a bit," Rose moaned, rocking back and forth on her knees as she clutched her hand to her chest. The Doctor's expression softened as he leaned in and wrapped an arm around her.

When the door burst open, the Doctor sprang to his feet and planted himself in front of Rose. "Oh, 'ello! Bit late for a visit, eh? Ah, well, I suppose it's very early morning. Wouldn't have a clock in here by any chance, would you? I mean, how-"

"What is your business in this lady's room, Doctor?" A pair of gray eyes flashed in the dim lamplight.

"I heard a scream, and naturally-"

"So did we." Holmes' voice had dropped to a dangerous tone, his gaze shifting between the girl on the floor and the man before him.

The Doctor's eyes widened. "What? You think that I had something to do with this?"

"I don't think, Doctor. I _perceive_." He made a quick motion with his hand. "Watson, do fetch a basin of water and attend to the girl."

Watson did as he was bid and returned shortly with a bowl in addition to his medical bag. He stepped into the room, casting a distrustful glance in the direction of the Doctor, who reluctantly stepped aside as the doctor knelt before Rose.

"Honestly, sir," the Doctor said quickly, holding his hands up in protest. "All I did was-"

"She's been burned, Holmes!" Watson exclaimed, staring at Rose's hand in the lamplight.

The detective's gaze slid down to the lamp on the floor, then back up to the Doctor.

"It looks as if she…was _branded_!" the doctor continued, disgust evident in his tone.

With a deft flick of the wrist Holmes drew a cane from behind his back and raised it to just inches from the Doctor's face. "Tell me, was it you who lit that lamp?"

The Doctor's eyes narrowed as he glared at the detective. "Yes."

"And so you were present in this room when she was burned."

The Doctor reached up and knocked the rod away from his face. "How dare you-"

The air whistled as the cane suddenly cracked against his head, sending him crashing into the corner of the bedside table.

"_Doctor!"_ Rose yelped from across the room, but was hushed by the man at her side.

"You have not answered my inquiry," Holmes continued in an icy tone, tapping his cane impatiently against the wooden floorboards.

The Doctor sputtered as a trickle of blood ran down his chin from the gash across his lips. He collapsed back against the wall, staring up at the detective in stunned silence.

"Are you to blame for this lady's injuries?" Holmes pressed.

The Doctor's gaze flicked to the space beneath the bed, then back up to Holmes. He frowned as if caught in some internal debate, but still said nothing.

The detective spun on his heel and strode across the room to where Watson still knelt beside Rose. "Did this man hurt you?"

Rose's eyes widened. "Of course not!"

"Did he have something to do with this?"

"Well, not-" Rose hesitated, unsure of how to answer.

"May I see your hand, Miss Tyler?" Holmes said gently and offered her a reassuring smile.

Rose reluctantly complied.

"A key!" Holmes hissed between his teeth. "The scoundrel singed her with a _key_!" He stalked back to where the Doctor still leaned, dazed, against the wall.

"I consider abuse to a lady a most abhorrent offense, _sir," _the detective snarled, swinging his cane back and forth, "but by heaven, I have yet to see the likes of this ghastly mistreatment-"

A blue light suddenly flashed from the Doctor's hand, accompanied by a loud whirring buzz. A second later, the cane flew from Holmes' grasp and clattered noisily to the floor.

"It is a capital mistake to theorize before you have all the evidence," the Doctor replied coolly, sliding his back against the wall until he was standing once more. "It biases the judgment, don't you think?"

Holmes stared at him, his mouth twitching slightly.

The Doctor cocked his head to the side and smiled tightly before pocketing his sonic screwdriver. He licked his lips and his brown eyes flashed. "Hit first, ask later, eh? I always took you for the more contemplative type, Mr. Holmes. _Weeell_…I suppose you do have your moments." He wiped a hand across his bloodied mouth and winced in pain.

Holmes said nothing, but a faint gleam glowed in his gray eyes.

"The answer to your question, _sir_," the Doctor almost spat, "is yes _and_ no. I was here when the accident happened, but it wasn't my fault. I'm not even sure myself what's going on…and, well, that's saying a lot." The Doctor suddenly dropped to his knees and crawled under the bed. He returned a moment later, and stood up with his hand clenched around something.

"Here is your culprit, Mr. Holmes," the Doctor said quietly, opening his hand to reveal the silver flash of an object. "It turned red hot by itself, out of nowhere, I promise you. It's the key to my ship, if you must know."

"Your…ship," Holmes replied dubiously, his eyes fixed on the gleaming object.

"Yes, my ship. Police box. Spaceship. Time machine. The TARDIS."

"TARDIS?"

The Doctor waved the question off. "There's something wrong with it. I have to go back."

"You will do no such thing, Doctor," Holmes replied quickly. "I have yet to know your full intentions, your character-"

The Doctor leaned toward the detective, his voice dropping to a dangerous tone. "And you never will." He then crossed in front of Holmes, unhindered, and strode over to where Rose and Watson now stood.

"How is she?"

"I've applied an ointment to the burn," Watson replied, casting a sidelong glance toward Holmes. "She'll need to rest. The wound must be treated and the bandages refreshed every few hours." He sighed. "I'm afraid that's all I can do."

The Doctor suddenly embraced Rose, then pulled back and flashed her a smile. "Now, you heard the man, miss," he said in a mock authoritative tone. "Back to bed you go!"

Rose managed a weak smile. "So you're going on without me, are you?"

"Well, you're-"

"I'll manage."

The Doctor leaned over to whisper in her ear. "How fast can you put on a pair of shoes?"

"What! And run in this dressing gown?" she whispered back, her smile growing wider.

"No time to change. We've got to get back to the TARDIS and figure out what's gone wrong. If Holmes wants us here so badly, he'll have to catch us first. Now, get to it!"

The Doctor whirled around to face Holmes and Watson. "Gentlemen! It has come to my attention that the hour is late. I shall, oh, how would you Victorians say it?" He cleared his throat ceremoniously. "I shall take my leaveof Miss Tyler and retire to my quarters presently." He smiled, pleased with himself.

Holmes still looked unconvinced. "Doctor, do not think yourself acquitted of doubt. I may have allowed you understanding, given your unique circumstances, but as such I shall not give myself up to any of these claims of yours until I can confirm them myself. I have been theorizing against my instincts, Doctor, but I require more evidence to prove the facts."

"So I'm a little more fiction than fact?" The Doctor smiled sardonically.

"Precisely."

"Well_, _that's…interesting." The Doctor glanced sideways at Rose, then back to the men before him. "Uh, just need to talk to my friend here and I shall join you gentlemen in that sitting room of yours in a moment."

Holmes shot Watson a sharp look, and then nodded toward their guest. "Alright, Doctor, we shall await you there." And with that, the detective and his companion stepped out and closed the door behind them.

The Doctor was immediately scurrying about the room, throwing open doors and inspecting every closet. With a cry of triumph, he gestured toward a dark doorway. "Rose, here!"

They crept through the dark passage, around a corner, and to the short landing above the stairwell. The Doctor looked both ways, then reached out and clasped Rose's good hand and together they crept down the stairs to the front door. The last stair creaked loudly, a veritable thunderclap in the absolute stillness of the apartments.

"Holmes! " Watson's voice sounded above the stairs.

The Doctor suddenly grinned in the darkness. "Rose, _run!_"

He flung open the door and then they were sprinting hand in hand down the mists of Baker Street. Halfway down the road they heard the door of 221B slam shut and two pairs of boots pounding the pavement behind them. The Doctor let out a laugh, releasing Rose's hand and increasing his speed. "Race you to the TARDIS!"

Rose lengthened her stride, a wide grin spreading across her tired face. "You're on, mate!"

The dark alleys became a continuous black stream in the corner of the Doctor's eye as he rushed past them through the night. He swerved around a corner, the exhilaration of the race pounding within his two hearts. He could hear Rose just behind him, and further back, two set of footsteps still hot on the chase. Suddenly a breath of cold air swirled about him as he crashed into the dark form emerging from the shadows. The Doctor staggered back, his wide eyes fighting the darkness to take in the figure before him. He heard a vicious hiss escaped the thing's lips and a dark red gaze turned its vindictive stare upon him. The Doctor felt a chill race down his spine and he backed slowly into Rose, who stood frozen behind him.

"P-pardon, sir," the Doctor mumbled, his eyes glued to the glowing scarlet eyes before him.

The man hissed a string of words as he stepped further from the alleyway. His face was sickly pale in the moonlight, a dark moustache hovering over the cruel mouth that was open in a ghastly smile. The air grew chillier as a wall of fog passed before him, then wisped away in a furled cloud.

"He's gone!" Rose whispered, stepping forward to take the Doctor's arm.

The Doctor stared into the black mists. "He was speaking Romanian. Dialect of Transylvania."

Then he was running again, dragging Rose behind him in a frantic dash down the silent streets. They flew around another corner and down a dingy alleyway, dodging refuse and muddied puddles, emerging onto the deserted street they had arrived on so many hours ago. An ambient red glow washed over the cobblestones from the opposite side of the street, the fiery glare throbbing lighter then darker, as if in the rhythm of a heartbeat. The Doctor staggered forward, his eyes glossed over, unseeing. The shouts behind him seemed distant, almost otherworldly. The voices melted into air and were gone.

The Doctor crashed to his knees, his gaze filled with the glowing shape before him. "My TARDIS," he whispered in a cracked voice. "She's…_red._"


End file.
